


Timeout

by mizsphinx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Gen, Humour, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizsphinx/pseuds/mizsphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to stand each other and constantly at odds, Lucius and Hermione are Portkeyed by Ginny and Draco to an uninhabited island in the Caribbean. Forced to suffer each others' company, it's left up to Fate as to who'd lose their sanity first. LBB fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fun and Games

**Author's Note:**

> So, here you go: a 10,000+ word one-shot filled with Lumione goodness. This was my entry for the awesome Lucius Big Bang which I thoroughly enjoyed, despite work and life constraints! Immense love and appreciation to the mods of the LBB who nearly tore their hair out to get this fest running smoothly, and similar hugs and kisses to pokeystar for her wonderful beta work, and owlbait for cheering me on with her little stick men. Golly, I sound like I'm at an awards show, reeling off my acceptance speech or something! Hee!

_Sunday, 15th June, 2004, 10:37pm_

"I'm fed up with those two!" announced Ginny in exasperated tones as she yanked her hair free of the ponytail she'd had it in.

"Hear, hear," agreed Draco, settling himself on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

Yanking the gold earrings from her ears, Ginny continued, "You'd think that the news of my pregnancy would make them behave with a _semblance_ of niceness but _no_!"

Draco loosened his tie. "Gin, what did you expect? They've hated each other since the beginning of time."

"Maybe it's because your father's such a condescending, elitist prick!" she challenged.

"Or maybe it's because your friend is a judgmental, annoying priss," he retorted.

They glared at each other for a moment before breaking out in identical grins. Hugging Draco, Ginny smoothed her hand absentmindedly through his hair.

"What are we going to do?" she queried in forlorn tones.

"Disown them and never speak to them again?"

"That's ridiculous. She's my best girlfriend and he's your dad." She gnawed on her bottom lip. "Maybe we could try to get them to become friends?"

Draco's face was a mask of dubiousness. The day Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy 'became friends' was in another universe that would never exist. Or, maybe when an apocalypse decimated the planet leaving only them as survivors, forced to replenish the earth—and even then, one of them would kill the other without a second thought.

"I don't know…seems like a fruitless cause to me."

When, after some time his wife said nothing more, Draco decided to look down where Ginny's head was placed against his chest, and he caught the upward turning of the corners of her mouth.

"Gin?"

She looked up, her eyes glinting with mischievous intent. "Draco, do you remember how you used to constantly taunt and ridicule me, and I you?"

"I—"

"And then, in my first year of university, at that summer party that Blaise threw, how we quarreled our way into his parents' master bedroom and then ended up shagging each others brains out?"

Draco smirked. "Of course, how could I forgot your screams of how I 'effing filled you like a cork—'"

" _Anyway_ ," interrupted Ginny, a pink hue on her cheeks. "What I'm saying is, what if they really like each other but just pretend to hate each others' guts?"

"Granger and father? Gin, please, that's like saying Voldemort's had a secret crush on Pothead all this time."

"It's not impossible," she insisted, sitting up, the same glint present in her eyes.

"It's not _possible_ ," Draco replied as he released her to remove his clothing. "Just forget about it, Ginny, and let's get to bed. I've got an early day tomorrow."

And fifteen minutes later, after she'd tucked herself comfortable into the arms of her slightly snoring husband, Ginny Malfoy's eyes could still be seen glinting in the dark as a plan formulated in her head.

"So do I, Draco. So do I."

* * *

_Monday, 16th June, 2004, 2:22pm_

Hermione Granger, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, was pissed.

Three weeks ago, she'd sent a proposal to the Minister for Magic for immediate approval concerning building housing centres for freed and homeless house-elves. In her estimation, it would have only taken, at most, three days for him to do the necessary scan before signing on the plan, but she'd yet to receive a note requesting discussion on the matter, let alone his tidy signature on the dotted line.

He was holding out on her. Why? Because he was a spiteful, ill-tempered bastard who liked to push her buttons.

And he had _really_ pushed them today.

"Is the Minister in, Parvati?" she demanded as she swiftly walked past the secretary's desk, not stopping for an answer.

"Hermione, wait!" Parvati sprang from her seat, chasing after her colleague. "He's in a meeting with—"

But Hermione had already pulled the door open to find the Minister for Magic and that tart from Intoxicating Substances rearranging their clothing in a suspicious manner. Her eyes honed in on the desk that was oddly free of parchment, quills, inkbottles and the various accoutrements that usually littered the Minister's desk.

And, under the heel of the aforementioned tart's left shoe, was Hermione's elvish housing centre proposal. Speared through the middle at page four.

She opened her mouth, her tongue razor-sharp and ready to slice through everyone in the room with a cutting comment, but the Minister beat her to it.

"Thank you, Sandra, for that enlightening discussion. It's a shame our meeting was curtailed prematurely on account of Miss Granger's impoliteness and impatience. Bad manners, it seems, is an inherent trait of hers. Nevertheless, expect my signed approval of your proposal this afternoon."

Smiling triumphantly at Hermione, Sandra retreated from the room, as did Parvati from the open doorway. Closing the door, Hermione turned to find the Minister had already spelled his desk's belongings back in place. Only her proposal was still lying abandoned on the floor, its middle gutted by Sandra's shoe heel.

He sat in his chair, linking his fingers in his lap, leaning back to survey her.

"Sandra from Intoxicating Substances?" she began. "That's low, even for you."

"Oh, I'm sure I can go lower," he replied, emphasising his statement with a slow perusal of Hermione's body.

She sneered. "Not in a million years, Mr. Malfoy. I'd rather lose all five of my senses before I let you touch me."

"And I'd prefer death before I let myself touch you, Miss Granger," he replied, looking terribly bored. "State your business. I have much more important matters that require my attention."

She bent and retrieved the semi-torn proposal. " _This_ is my business." She waved it. "I sent this to you three weeks ago and you haven't even owled me to discuss it. But I see you've had your hands full of _discussions_ with Sandra."

She glared at him and he continued to look at her as though he'd rather be anywhere in the world but in that office with her.

_He probably had a different expression on his face when that cow, Sandra, was in here with him though._

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Miss Granger."

Startled. " _What_? Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Malfoy."

Had he read her mind? She didn't think so. Maybe there had been something in her expression that had given her thoughts away. The Minister for Magic, Lucius Malfoy, was a very observant man. It was something about those eyes of his. So grey; so… _penetrating_ that sometimes it physically hurt to look him in the eye. Not to mention the unblinking insistence with which he stared at a person. He could put a cat to shame.

Still, that didn't explain how he knew she was jealous. Maybe a lucky guess. He certainly didn't know that, yes, she had a very, very, _very_ tiny crush on him, and that, yes, his office romances—if anybody could call a quick shag on a desk an 'office romance'—with other women were making her see _slightly_ green.

No, he couldn't know. She'd been extremely careful to keep up appearances: challenging him on every decision he made, insulting him at every opportunity, engaging in constant bickering even over the simplest action. Merlin knew, it was exhausting arguing with the man because he gave as good—and sometimes even better—as he got.

And that was why this insane crush had developed. In her twenty-four years—five of which had been spent in various semi-serious to serious relationships—he was the only man who could challenge her in any debate…and win.

It was love at first 'argument'.

_Ugh. I don't love him, I just fancy him a little—_

"Miss Granger, when you've ceased your daydreaming, do be so kind as to close the door on your way out."

She snapped back to reality. "I'm not leaving until I've received your signature right here." She pointed at the dotted line.

"Great Circe you're as annoying as my son had professed." He released a world-weary sigh. "Come. Give me that blasted parchment before I hex you to Antarctica."

When he returned the parchment after scribbling impatiently on it, Hermione gave him a very smug look.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you have a good day. Do enjoy the subsequent burning in 'certain places' from the gonorrhea that Sandra has so kindly passed on to you."

And she scurried off to her office before he could say anything else.

* * *

_Tuesday, 17th June, 2004, 12:34pm_

At lunchtime the next day, Hermione met with Ginny for a quick bite, then some premature shopping for baby things. Ginny had suddenly decided that she wanted to get everything as early as possible lest she waited last minute and forgot to purchase certain necessities. At 'Baby Magic'—a chic little boutique that sold maternity and baby clothing at exorbitant prices—Ginny insisted that Hermione try on a pretty peach maternity dress with a plunging neckline, its hem stopping at the knees.

"But, Ginny," protested Hermione. "I'm not pregnant. It won't fit right."

Out of nowhere, Ginny produced a pregnancy suit, bands loosened and ready to be affixed around Hermione's sides and back to make her appear as though pregnant.

Thinking how neat the idea was to see what she would look like pregnant, Hermione protested no more. Instead, she grabbed up the fake pregnant belly suit and the dress, entered the stall that Ginny pointed to…

…and ended up, ankle deep, in turquoise-blue sea-water.

* * *

_Tuesday, 17th June, 2004, 12:47pm_

_That conniving witch!_

Lucius Malfoy had just returned from a rather embarrassing physical examination with his Healer, and was particularly vexed with its futility. That Granger woman's parting shot had been good. She'd actually convinced him that he'd caught a disease from that twit named Sandy-something, and, fearing for his health, he'd booked the earliest appointment he could to ensure all was well with his…delicate areas.

He wanted to strangle her, and then teach her a thing or two about 'burning in certain places'. Preferably on his desk.

Lucius allowed himself a moment to envision that possibility before ejecting the thought out of his mind. Hermione Granger was off-limits.

And maybe that was the reason why the allure was so great. Forbidden fruit always looked the sweetest.

She just wasn't right for him. Despite the fact that she'd matured into a beautiful young woman, that her intelligence was refreshing, that her indomitable spirit was so admirable (at times), there was one glaring fact he could not overlook:

She was good.

Not good at something, just simply and genuinely _good_. An altruist to the very core. Such words like selfless, kindhearted, just and honest could so easily describe dear Miss Hermione Granger. She was the golden girl of the Wizarding World: the devoted friend of Harry Potter; the triumphant heroine who had aided in the defeat of Voldemort.

 _His_ former leader.

He supposed, on some level, he felt as though he didn't deserve her, but Lucius had perfected lying to himself, thus, he told himself that he just couldn't abide being with a goodie-two-shoes like Miss Granger. With that tenacious attitude and that hot temper, she'd only be a thorn in his side.

Besides, he wasn't ready for a committed relationship. Narcissa had left him two years ago and he was enjoying his newfound bachelor days. Obviously, Miss Granger was the type that would not encourage additional partners. The prude.

Realising his thoughts had wandered off into ridiculousness, he stepped out of the Healer's office into the mid-June sunshine.

"Father?"

Lucius turned at the sound of Draco's voice. "Draco, what brings you to these parts?"

"Father, I need to speak to you," Draco said, looking anxious.

Worried, but not showing it, Lucius allowed himself to be led into the coffee shop that adjoined his Healer's office building. They made their way to a private corner in the back of the room that held a small circular table and two chairs.

"Let me just get our drinks first before we talk, Father," Draco said.

Nodding, and wondering what had Draco looking so nervous, Lucius proceeded to sit in his chair…

…and found himself plunked down onto warm beach sand.

* * *

_Tuesday, 17th June, 2004, 12:53pm_

The sight of Lucius Malfoy suddenly appearing at her feet startled her first, then angered her second.

"You!" was all she could get out in her mounting outrage.

His head swiveled around then up, and if Hermione wasn't so angry she'd have laughed at how comical he looked.

"You!" he mimicked.

"Why did you do this, _Malfoy_?" All formalities were dropped. There would be no mister this or mister that here. Whenever one was kidnapped, one did not speak nicely to one's captor. You had the right to use their name as though you were viewing a huge blob of phlegm someone had just coughed up.

"What have _I_ done?" he retorted, rising to dust off the seat of his robes. "Weren't you here before I arrived? Am I not the one who should be suspicious?"

She whipped out her wand from whence it was hidden, secured to her left side by her bra.

"Don't play your silly mind games on me, Malfoy!" She pointed her wand at his chest. "I don't know what you're up to, but I swear to Circe I'll hex your arse into next week if you make one move towards me!"

He was blatantly ignoring her. Instead, he was surveying their immediate surroundings—surroundings she'd already explored in rising hysteria just before he came. Apparently, they were on some kind of beach. With such glorious-looking water, and with the sun's heat demanding she divest herself of _all_ of her clothing, Hermione knew she was no longer in Britain.

Besides, Britain did not have coconut trees.

She refocused her attention on Lucius Malfoy again. A part of her told her that he was just as surprised as she, but she didn't quite trust that thought. As a matter of fact, she didn't trust Lucius Malfoy full stop. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, and it would be foolish of her to let her guard down around this man.

His face began to morph from puzzlement, to suspicious squinting, then finally settled on displeased realisation. He knew something, and it irked her. She hated _not_ knowing.

"What is it?" she demanded, wand unwavering in its threatening point at his chest.

He redirected his gaze back to hers. "Drop your wand and I'll tell you."

"I'm not stupid enough—"

"Look, there." He suddenly pointed in the direction of the sea, and like a ninny, she followed his finger. Half of her was not surprised when, mere seconds later, her body was muscled to the bed of sand and her wand was pried from her fingers.

Grunting and snarling like some kind of feral creature, Hermione clawed and kicked at Lucius for her wand. He tried to overpower her by holding her upper arms down but her sideways kick to his hip had him rolling down towards the shore, her body rolling down behind his.

Hermione struggled to stop her roll and retain her balance before Lucius, but gripping at the loose sand was a futile attempt. Not to mention the fact that Lucius had managed to stop his tumble, had turned and grabbed a hold of her ankles and was currently dragging her into the water.

"Let me go, you fuc—" A gush of sand and salty water washed over her face. It filled her mouth, plugged up her nostrils, and effectively turned that demand into coughs, snorts and splutters.

Standing over her, he said: "Now, I hope that dousing has tempered your unnecessary histrionics and quelled that surprisingly filthy mouth of yours, Miss Granger, so that you can listen to what I have to say."

She sat glaring up at him, the water lapping gently around her thighs. She was furious with herself for letting him best her, and furious with him for daring to point her own wand at her. Watching him smirk down at her, she promised herself due vengeance when she returned to Britain…or maybe even before then.

"So, what is it then?" she began in cattish tones. "Am I to be a sacrifice? Some kind of offering to your Death Eater friends so you can rub shoulders with them once more?"

He looked like he was fighting not to roll his eyes. "Miss Granger, for someone who has been titled as 'the brightest witch of her age', you are woefully dim-witted today. Can you not see that we've _both_ been trapped?"

* * *

_Still Tuesday 17th June, 2004 7:27pm_

"I still can't believe Draco did this! How could he?"

Lucius' left temple began to twitch in agitation.

"If my son played any part in this, I am sure it was by force," he replied in supercilious tones. "This kind of manipulation is reminiscent of that devious witch he has taken for a wife."

Hermione's response was immediate. "Ginny would never do such a thing."

He sneered. "Oh, yes. I've quite forgotten to whom I'm speaking: the Great Gryffindor Lioness who believes all Gryffindors walk on streets of pureness like she does, and who protects them vehemently even in the face of their blatant dishonesty."

She stiffened her back. "Ginny didn't do it."

"I rest my case."

Silence.

Ten minutes later:

"And even if she did, how did we end up here? On _your_ island?"

Lucius did not answer. He was too angry. It was true that Draco had, indeed, played a part in this trick, but he wasn't ready to admit it to that holier-than-thou, loves-to-wear-smug-looks-when-she's-right Granger woman. He'd told her these facts: they were on a magic-restricted island; he knew this because he recognised the place; he recognised the place because he owned it.

He'd deliberately left out the bit that: he no longer owned it, his son did; that he'd given it to Draco as a wedding gift; that his son had used his gift against him.

But to do what? If they (Draco and, yes, that conniving wife of his, Ginny) had thought to give him a holiday, then they both deserved to be _Crucio-ed_. To have paired him with Hermione Granger was like sentencing him to hell on earth. And, although Lucius tried to tell himself it would be hellish due to her odious temperament, he knew the reason ran along a more erotic nature.

To have paired him with Hermione Granger…on an uninhabited island. He and her. All alone. Ideas abounded. Very good but very bad ideas.

Gods, help him.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you been listening to a word I've been saying?"

"Miss Granger, I find it remarkable that anyone listens to you when one considers the perpetual nagging quality that inflects your voice whenever you speak."

"So says the man who constantly appears as though shit has been permanently pasted on his upper lip."

"I will not decline into such immature banter with you, Miss Granger." He made a shooing motion. "Now go away and leave me in peace."

"Yes, _father_."

* * *

_Wednesday 18th June, 2004 9:52am_

Hermione awoke to find that that sod, Malfoy, had picked three coconuts and had drunk and eaten them all, not caring to leave behind any for her.

The greedy bastard.

After eyeballing the empty coconut shells—gouged out by teeth-marks—in disbelief, she'd asked, "Have you left any for me?"

"'Give a man a fish; you have fed him for the day. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime.'"

She gave him a sour look. "So, you're going to teach me how to pick coconuts?"

"No, Miss Granger, you are going to teach yourself."

"Essentially: 'go pick my own coconuts'. Is that it?"

He smiled up at her from where he sat, perched on an overturned palm-tree. "Such a quick study you are."

She wanted to hit him. Really hard too. So she did. Well…tried to.

Grabbing the nearest thing to hand—a half-shell of one of the coconuts he'd been eating—she reared back her hand and pelted it at him with all of her strength. It went ridiculously wide, falling into the sea-water with an insulting plop.

His smirk was infuriating, and doubly so because some rebellious part of her—that was not on page with her current motto: 'Hate Lucius Malfoy One Hundred Percent'—insisted his smirking face was handsome. That how nice it would be to have her face mere centimetres away from his as he leaned to kiss—

"You've horrible aim. Thank the gods they never chose you for Quidditch. Gryffindor's losses would have made history books."

Her fury was reignited. She grabbed up another shell and pelted it again. And, although it didn't hit the intended the mark, it was so close, that in his haste to escape the hit, he fell backwards onto the sand with a grunt, followed by an expletive.

The self-satisfaction was evident in her voice. " _Now_ who has the dirty mouth?"

* * *

_4:37pm_

Hermione manoeuvred her way through the densely populated area of trees, and swatted away at the grass that were as tall as her. After thirty minutes of hiking through the belly of the island, there was still no body of fresh water to be found. She was so thirsty, and sweating so heavily, she swore she'd faint any moment from dehydration. How she wanted to see Ginny at that moment. She just wanted to kill the bitch!

Ahem.

She wanted to…err…tell Ginny why it wasn't nice to send your best friend off to an uninhabited island where drinkable water was non-existent.

Right.

She was so angry. How could Ginny do this to her? If there had been a problem, why couldn't they have discussed it? And why had she sentenced her with Malfoy as company? Didn't she know how much they despised each other? Wasn't the constant bickering between them proof enough?

A light-bulb suddenly flickered on.

_Oh. That's why. They probably got fed up of me and Malfoy cursing at each other._

She couldn't blame them. It was true that she and Malfoy went at each others' throats at every opportunity. Obviously, it had been affecting the newly married couple with a baby on the way. In true form when one was dealing with petulant and rude children, they'd been punished with the dreaded _time-out_. They were at the whim of Ginny and Draco.

Merlin knew how long they'd be stuck here.

She and Malfoy. Him and her. All alone. On an exotic island that tended to invoke romantic ideas…

Shaking her head, she banished those thoughts from her mind. As she stepped through a larger patch of grass than usual, her gaze immediately landed on the waterfall first, then the large pool of water that surrounded it. With a shriek of joy, she began stripping off her clothing in a frenzy. All thoughts of Lucius Malfoy were effectively forgotten.

* * *

_4:38 pm_

From beneath a shade tree, slightly enclosed by tall grass, Lucius watched in a mixture of curiosity and amusement as Hermione stripped off her blouse, then her sensible knee-length skirt which she'd been wearing since before her arrival on the island. Then, clad only in mismatched underwear—black bra, red knickers—she gave her immediate area a furtive glance around before reaching her right hand behind her back…

Lucius' own back became straighter. No, it couldn't be. Dear Miss Prim Hermione Granger was not about to unsnap her—

The straps of the bra sagged and were immediately smoothed over her arms. The piece of material was soon discarded amongst her shirt and skirt.

Lucius' mouth went dry. He was, at most, fifteen feet away, thus, his good vision allowed him to deduce that Hermione's breasts were the best pair he'd seen in the last year. Their perkiness defied gravity; their roundness were smug in their ability to properly fill a man's— _his_ —hands; the nipples perfect in being neither too small nor too large so a man's— _his_ —tongue could—

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers.

His cock attained complete hardness.

Slowly, seductively—his eyes told him, but maybe it was just horniness playing games with him—she inched those red knickers over her thighs, knees, calves and ankles, then she threw them into the pile of clothing as well.

She straightened herself, and Lucius quite thought his heart had stopped. He felt that he wouldn't mind dying at the moment—if he wanted to continue in his clichéd and dramatic vein—now that he'd seen the magnificent sight of Hermione Granger's shaved and very bare mons.

* * *

_4:43pm_

The water was divine. Not too deep, yet not too shallow either.

Its coolness was a balm to her previously burning, sweaty body. She'd been self-conscious bathing in the nude, but she'd reminded herself that only she and Lucius were on the island, and she'd left him on the beach a thirty-minute trek ago. There would be no chance of being spied on. Thank Merlin.

Thank Merlin, indeed. The water felt so damn good, she wasn't sure she'd be leaving anytime soon. Plus, that waterfall looked like it'd be a treat to dance around under for awhile. In any case, she had to wash her clothing first before faffing about. If she intended to stay for some time, she wanted to make sure she had dry clothing to leap into, just in case she heard Malfoy coming her way.

So, turning in the direction where she'd left her clothes, Hermione was very surprised to find that…her clothes were no longer there.

Feet paddling like crazy to keep her afloat, she turned her head left, right, then all around the edge of the pool to locate her missing clothing. They were nowhere to be found. They'd suddenly grown feet and abandoned her in her nudeness.

She was beginning to panic when a voice to her right halted her hasty swim to the pool's edge.

"Are you looking for these, Miss Granger?"

Holding her clothes aloft, a bra strap noticeably dangling at his midsection, Lucius materialised from between a bunch of tall grass she'd overlooked while ensuring that the place had been private enough for birthday suits.

"Malfoy!" It was the only word she could get out in her mounting outrage.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

The bastard was smiling. Smiling!

"Give me back my effing clothes, you effing—"

"Sweet Circe, where are your manners, my dear? Have you never heard of asking nicely?"

"Give me back my effing clothes. Please."

He feigned innocence. "But, Miss Granger, on reflection, can you not simply _come_ for your clothing? Has some frailty befallen you that you cannot leave the water on your own will? Should I come and assist you?"

"No, you evil git!" she shouted, shaking a fist angrily in the air. "I'm naked, and you bloody well know it! Now give me my damn clothes!"

Turning away from her, he went to a nearby boulder and placed her clothing neatly upon it. Facing her once more, arms folded, smirk affixed, he said,

"Come and get them."

* * *


	2. Serious Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continuez...

_Thursday 19th June, 2004 11:14am_

"Miss Granger, I am sorry."

She said nothing, only continued thwacking her coconut against a rock's edge with such intensity, it was a little terrifying. No doubt she was imagining his head as the coconut.

"I really am," he persisted, but still, there was no response.

Lucius Malfoy was not a man known for apologies, but he doled them out when he deemed the moment fit. And it fit today. Hermione was very, very angry with him, and he couldn't blame her. After the events of yesterday, nobody would.

That wasn't to say he regretted his actions. Of course not. The sight of Hermione Granger's breasts bouncing whilst she made a mad dash to and from that boulder yesterday had been worth her silent wrath today. The image was forever branded to his memory. Not even a well-aimed _Obliviate_ could destroy it, he doubted.

But she was not as pleased as he. She'd been thoroughly embarrassed. He'd have much preferred her usual angry hollering, but there had been none of that. Only silence. Long, long silence with her head held high, and her entire face and neck a continuous pink.

He felt remorseful. But not too much. The memory of those divine mounds of hers kept guilt at a minimum.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Thwack!

"Fetch you some water?"

Thwack!

"Pick more coconuts?"

Thwack!

"Build you a castle from sand?"

Thwack!

"A real castle, then? In Cotswold?"

The thwacking stopped, and Lucius became worried. The cost to build a castle in Cotswold would be astronomical…

"If you'd like to make it up to me, Mr. Malfoy," she began in dignified tones, face still pink, "then it's only fair that we even the score."

"You'd like me to run around naked?"

The pink on her face deepened, her pursed mouth tightened even more. "Yes."

Lucius was not a fair man by nature, but in this case, he was forced to weigh the odds. Face the unknown duration of his stay on this island in complete solitude—there was no doubt that Miss Granger had the aptitude to keep him cold forever—or try to appease her?

Of course, appeasing her was more viable, but did it have to be by her request? Surely, with his glib tongue, he could talk his way out of her anger?

"Miss Granger, surely—"

"Either you strip, or we never speak again. And when we return to Britain, I'll sue you for every Knut that you own for sexual harassment. The Daily Prophet will eat that story up, especially when I've given them access to my Pensieve memories. Not only would you be forced to resign as Minister for Magic, you'll become a social pariah. You'll be 'The Molesting Death Eater'."

He began to unbutton his shirt.

* * *

_11:16am_

With four buttons down and the final one to go, Hermione began to nervously lick her lips. She wasn't so sure she wanted to see Lucius naked anymore. And if she did, certainly under different circumstances.

Not that there would _ever_ be any circumstance in which she'd like to see Lucius Malfoy naked!

Because he was a mean and unscrupulous git. She couldn't believe she had a crush on him. Had had, rather. She didn't anymore. Nope. Not again, not ever.

The final button was released. A gust of wind chose that opportune moment to blow his shirt back theatrically, baring his chest, his firm, flat stomach, and those twin clefts that began at his lower waist and disappeared into his trousers.

Merlin, with that stupid wind blowing his shirttails and hair back like that, he looked like the front cover of a _Playwitch_ magazine.

She wanted to smack him.

Then jump his bones.

Such a treacherous body she owned.

After taking off the shirt, he began to unbuckle his belt, and Hermione decided she wouldn't be able to take much more.

"That's enough, Malfoy," she said in strained tones. "I might throw-up if you continue."

He looked at her, those sky-grey eyes of his ever astute. And, although she'd heard that liars were usually caught in their unwillingness to make eye-contact, she just could not meet his gaze.

* * *

_11:17am_

_What a pleasant surprise._

In that moment, after cataloguing Hermione's pinker-than-usual cheeks and her downcast eyes, it dawned on Lucius that maybe she didn't loathe him as much as she'd purported. As a matter of fact, if his brilliant—of course it was—memory served him correctly, there had been many questionable instances of her loathing for him.

First, her participation as a witness to his trial concerning the War in 1999—a decision that had astounded him, but which he'd been eternally grateful to her for. Had it not been for her declaration that she 'supposed he had changed for the better', he might have been in Azkaban to this day.

Secondly, those instances at social functions a year and a half ago when he was aiming for the position of Minister for Magic: her odd looks whenever he caught her looking at him; a blush—much like the present one—on her face as she looked away.

Thirdly, her growing animosity towards him with each female partner he took from the Ministry. He'd thought it was just the prude in her, thinking office shags were improper, but what if it had been something else? He'd probably hit the nail on the head that day when he'd told her jealousy didn't suit her.

He'd only been referring to the fact that that Sally-what's-her-name had got his immediate approval on a project, and Hermione hadn't, and that she ought not be jealous. But what if that sour look had been borne from a different kind of envy? Envious of his attentions to other women?

Perhaps she'd like his attentions to be directed her way instead? Perhaps she was attracted to him?

Hmm.

_Hmm._

Perhaps he'd like to test this theory to see whether or not his deductions were incorrect?

* * *

_6:02pm_

Hermione undid the first and second buttons of her blouse and rubbed at the junction where her neck met her right shoulder. It had developed a cramp last night since she'd been using a small boulder as her pillow. She'd never again take for granted her wonderful queen-sized bed and her plushy pillows at home. To think that proper bedding had joined the usual necessities like food, water and shelter.

She rolled her shoulders, her entire upper back feeling as though it had been trampled on numerous times. Tiredness plagued her, and so did a fear that she'd never leave the island; that she'd be stuck here forever, eating coconuts for breakfast, lunch and dinner, trying to maintain her sanity while Lucius Malfoy aided in its erosion.

As if on cue, a pair of hands descended onto her shoulders. She tried to turn around, but his steely grip held her in place.

She spat out the eucalyptus leaves she'd been chewing on to freshen her breath.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Helping you," and he began to knead his fingers into her flesh.

"Well, stop it! I don't need your help. I don't need you. I don't—oh my god…right there…right…right…ohhh…there…"

Hermione's eyes drifted shut. What his hands were doing ought to be illegal. It felt too good. Where had he been? Where had those God-sent hands been all her life when she'd suffered various aches and pains that had needed attending to?

Lucius Malfoy a skilled masseuse. Who would have thought?

His hands made quick work of that cramp, banishing it from her neck. He then began to work his way down her back, his thumbs a seeking device for pain, and his remaining fingers annihilating it through the material of her shirt. Eventually, her body was devoid of all troublesome cramps and was feeling properly squeezed and prodded, but she didn't tell him to stop. She rather liked the feel of his hands on her.

Like how he was smoothing his palms so sensually up her back. Like how he was gently squeezing her shoulder joints. Like how softly his lips were pressed against the side of her—

She snapped out of her daze.

"What are you doing?" she demanded again.

"Helping you," he said once more, his lips moving against her skin.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you gone insane? You're kissing my neck!"

"Indeed, and you seem to be enjoying it."

"No, I—oh!" The tip of his tongue licked a small trail up her neck.

She tried to strain forwards and away from him but failed. Instead, he moved from kneeling on his haunches to sitting on the floor, then yanked her backwards between his legs. Hands still smoothing up and down her upper arms, he whispered into her ear:

"Why do you fight me so?"

"Because…because…" Because she didn't know what she might do if she allowed this to continue further.

"Isn't this what you want?" He sucked lightly where her pulse ticked.

 _Yes_. "No!"

His hands moved from her upper arms to the third button of her blouse and undid it. The front of the shirt sagged, revealing her breasts clad in her black bra.

"Haven't you always desired my attention?"

 _Yes, always_. "Never!"

He kissed her jaw-line as his fingers eased the straps of her bra off of her shoulders. The material gave willingly, exposing her breasts to the gentle, balmy breeze.

His voice an octave lower: "Haven't you ever yearned for my touch?"

Many times, and even now she did. She wanted him to stop wasting their time and start rubbing his hands in the places that begged to be rubbed. But she'd be damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that. She was always good at cutting off her nose to spite her face.

She inclined her head to the side to look him in the face. "As someone said three days ago: I'd rather die before I let you touch me."

"Well, it's a pity we cannot always have what we want," he drawled before he closed the gap between them and kissed her.

He kissed her slowly, softly; a semi-chaste touching of his lips against hers before he gently prodded her mouth open with his tongue. Closing her eyes, she gave in to him, relishing the feel of his mouth moving against her own, of the sensuous slide of his tongue with hers. An erotic dance that made her skin tingle and her lower stomach cramp with desire.

Curling her fingers into his shirt, she pressed herself closer to him. She wanted to continue kissing Lucius Malfoy forever. She really did. Countless times she'd imagined what his kisses would feel like (despite her usual reprimands to stop doing so), but she'd never thought it would be so…exhilarating. Her body was coming alive in a way she'd never felt before. For once in her life, she knew what it meant to hunger for something. Someone. Him.

"I want to touch you," he said against her lips. "Let me touch you."

Pulling away, she turned her head forwards before leaning her head back against his shoulder; arcing her back slightly so her breasts jutted forwards.

"Bend your knees."

She did so.

"Open your legs."

She tried to, but her slim skirt allowed only a four-inch gap between her knees.

But Lucius fixed that problem by yanking the hem of her skirt all the way up to her hips.

She opened her legs. Wide.

"Hmm, you look deliciously wanton, Miss Granger," he purred into her ear, and before she could respond, he reached up and cupped her breasts.

He weighed them, squeezed them, then used the pads of his fingers to brush along the sensitive undersides of her breasts. With thumb and forefingers, he pinched, prodded and twirled her nipples, engendering little gasps and mewls from her. He reclaimed her mouth in a hard kiss, swallowing her groans as he fondled her mercilessly.

"Please…please…" she begged, unable to completely articulate what she truly wanted: to feel that hard erection that was at her backside, buried deep within her.

But he did not oblige her. Instead, he smoothed his right hand over her belly, past the bunched material of her skirt and reached between her spread legs to press his fingers insistently at her center. Moaning against his lips, her hips lifted, and she stretched her body downwards, determined to keep his touch _right there_.

He patted her lightly twice, and she jerked a little at each as the contact sent delicious zings through her clitoris. Then, with three fingers, he began to rub her in slow and steady circles through the material of her knickers. Clutching his leg, Hermione began rocking herself against his fingers, gasping out his name at each pleasurable chafe of her knickers against her swollen flesh.

Then, without warning, he lifted his digits away from her, parted her knickers to the side and ran his middle finger from her slick opening all the way up to that sensitive bud.

"Lucius…please…" she pleaded again as he teased her, swiping his fingers along her flesh but never quite touching anywhere for long.

"Please what?" he said, his voice low. "What would you have me do to you?"

"Any…anything…but just…just…"

"This?" and he inserted his middle finger deep into her.

" _Yes_ …"

"And this?" His forefinger joined the other.

"Yes…Merlin…yes…"

"And maybe this?" and he pumped his fingers in and out of her hard and fast, before sliding his moistened digits up to circle her clitoris.

Throwing her head back and spreading her legs as wide as they could go, Hermione moaned her ecstasy into the evening air as Lucius diddled her nub whilst pinching and twirling her left nipple with his other hand. The low thrum in her belly began making its way down, as her body arced and stretched and yearned for that inevitable release.

What Lucius Malfoy's fingers were doing to her was sublime. She thought to herself that if his fingers could provoke such exquisite sensations coursing through her body, then Merlin knew what would happen to her if he made love to her. _When_ he made love to her.

Hermione began to pant heavily, her thighs shaking with the nearness of her orgasm as Lucius rubbed her clitoris and her nipple in hard circles.

"Come, come for me," he demanded before he kissed her again. He crushed her lips to his, swallowing her long, long groan as her entire body tensed before she came hard on his continuously circling fingers, shivering from the sweet intensity of her climax.

She could feel his erratic heartbeat against her back, and the quick rise and fall of his chest as he breathed as heavily as she. So, turning, intent on returning the favour by unbuckling his trousers and riding him until he fainted, she was a little surprised when he stayed her reaching hand.

Smirking, "I suppose that 'evens the score' as you so charmingly put it."

She retracted her hand, suddenly fighting to right her clothing. Then, in as dignified a tone she could muster after just being fingered into a fantastic orgasm by someone she claimed she hated: "Yes, I suppose so."

* * *

_Friday 20th June, 2004 1:12pm_

He wanted her. Badly.

He could barely look at her for too long without getting hard.

But he would not give in. Must not give in.

Yesterday, he'd gone too far. He hadn't intended to touch her that way. He'd only meant to relieve her of her aches. Then, his skin had touched hers and all common sense had departed to somewhere else. Thank Merlin he'd prevented her from reaching his belt. Albeit she'd been obviously willing to take things further, he didn't think he could forgive himself if he did.

_I don't deserve her._

Absurd! Preposterous. That wasn't the reason why he wouldn't take her body completely. He just…just…didn't want the ensuing confusion. She was the emotional type. She wouldn't see a quick shag for what it was: a quick shag; she'd assume it was a gateway to something more, to A Relationship. And he certainly didn't need—or want—any ties in his life right now.

So, he was not going to have sex with Hermione Granger, even if it killed him.

* * *

_1:12pm_

She was going to have sex with Lucius Malfoy, even if it killed her.

Such a cruel man he was to, theoretically, present her a cake, give her a scrumptious forkful, then take the cake away from her.

No, that just would not do. Not at all.

She wondered why he'd got them both all hot and bothered, then curtailed the event when it was just about to become very good. He wanted her, she knew that much by that firm erection she'd felt prodding her bottom last night, so why didn't he take her? Why? It defied reasonableness, and it irked her when things didn't make sense.

He probably wanted her to beg. Well, she was not the begging sort, and never would be. If anything, she was the type to take what she wanted, when she wanted it.

And what she wanted was him.

* * *

_Saturday 21st June, 2004 2:39am_

In the thick gloom, she could hardly make out Lucius' still form as he slept, but determination kept her on her hands and knees as she crawled the short distance towards him.

He was lying on his side, his bended left forearm as his pillow, his right arm laying slack across his waist. His back was turned to her, thus she was unsure if he was truly sleeping. So, raising herself up onto her knees, she slowly leaned over his head, squinting to see whether his eyes were closed. She found that they were. Then, she leaned in closer, bending her ear cautiously to his nose, and heard a light snore, little whistles issuing from his nostrils.

_Good. Time to get to work._

Chewing on her lip, she grew apprehensive—not because she thought he might be angry, but because she was afraid of waking him prematurely. She wanted to turn him over, but sensed that grabbing him would have him springing out of the depths of sleep in milliseconds. She believed he was a light sleeper.

She pondered what to do for a few moments before an idea struck. Then, carefully, sweeping her hands on the nearby ground for the right object, she smiled in satisfaction when she found it. It was half of a dried palm tree leaf, its limberness perfect for the job.

Stretching her hand downwards, she began to tickle his exposed right cheek with the palm leaf.

No response.

She tickled him again. This time his right hand jerked to his neck and stayed there.

She contemplated not tickling him again, worried he'd wake, but then decided to chance it for a third time. As his hand came up to swat lifelessly at his face, he rolled onto his back. Hermione held her breath, frozen where she knelt because she was sure that the slightest movement she made right then would rouse him.

A minute or so later, she heard him snoring lightly again.

She relaxed her body, but waited a few more minutes. When she was convinced that he was no longer under threat of waking, she carefully began to undo his belt, her eyes trained on his face.

The button that held his trouser's waist came next; the zip beneath it was pulled down easily. There was only a moment's hesitation before she hooked her left index finger into the V where the zip's head lay, and began to stretch the material down as slowly as possibly. With her right hand, she reached into his right leg of his trousers, hoping that that was where he'd tucked himself. It wasn't.

She was just beginning to reach into the left leg when she felt his hand graze her calf. Frozen again, she locked her gaze onto his face, wondering if she was about to get caught. She wasn't, for he kept on snoring.

Relieved, she continued her grope. Then, with deft, light fingertips, she pulled his cock from where it laid against his leg.

Mission accomplished.

Still holding him, she rotated her body from kneeling at his right side to kneeling between his legs. Her face now properly aligned, she held his flaccid flesh, brought her head down and sucked it into her mouth.

* * *

_2:43am_

Lucius was having a _wonderful_ dream.

He dreamt he was on a beach, lying naked on his back on the warm sand as Hermione Granger, clad in an extremely short tartan skirt and a tight white shirt knotted just beneath her breasts, bent over him, servicing him with her mouth.

In his dream, he could make out the twin pebbles that were her nipples against her shirt, and he could imagine the sight beneath that belt she called her skirt. In his dream, Hermione was not wearing any underwear under that skirt, and that was good, because soon after she'd done doing whatever delicious things she was doing with her mouth, she wouldn't be needing any knickers.

And, Merlin that mouth of hers. Hot and wet, licking and sucking… _feasting_ on his cock. The way she twirled slow circles around the head, then ran the tip of her tongue sensuously down the underside of the shaft. How her tongue lapped and diddled and laid flat against his balls, forcing groans out of him as he dug his fingers into her hair.

And when she took him all the way into her mouth, the moist warmness surrounding his flesh as her tongue still continued its ministrations…well, heaven was, indeed, on earth.

The feeling was so acute, so real that Lucius began to wonder if he was even dreaming anymore. Even as the dream began to fade and the cloak of sleep receded, he could still feel a persistent moistness surrounding him…

His eyes snapped open, and he raised himself up on to his elbows. There he found her kneeling between his legs, her hand pumping him as she sucked his cock. Caught off guard by the sight of her, and at the hard suction she suddenly applied to his flesh, Lucius squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as he came into her mouth.

A moment later, after his breathing and heartbeat had calmed, he smiled at her.

"Miss Granger, that…was a first."

* * *

_11:53am_

They still did not have sex.

After giving her a long and promising kiss, he'd laid on the floor and had fallen off to sleep once more.

She suspected he'd done so on purpose.

But why? Why didn't Lucius want to have sex with her? Hadn't sucking him off been an obvious (but not desperate) plea for more? Did she have to demand it of him? He couldn't possibly be that dense. She refused to believe he was unaware of her intentions. This meant that if he _was_ aware and not acting upon it, then…he didn't _want_ to do it.

_Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?_

These were the facts: he wanted her; he had no problems with getting an erection; his penis was not deformed or had some kind of ugly sprout; he enjoyed sex. Well, since he'd worked his way through most of the attractive women (married and single) at work, it was obvious he _really_ enjoyed sex.

Maybe he just didn't want to have sex with her…

Idly following a crab, she made her way down to the shore of the beach. Her thoughts growing darker by the second, she watched the brown crustacean meddle about in the wet sand for awhile. When it returned to its trot back to the seawater, Hermione followed it, suddenly realising that since she'd come to the island, she'd yet to take a swim. She stepped one foot into the water…

…and stepped the other onto her living room carpet.

* * *

_11:53am_

Lucius blinked twice then sprang to his feet, running to where he'd last seen Hermione stand before she'd suddenly disappeared with an audible pop. Worry crept up and accosted him as he scanned the seawater. Had she fallen in? Was she drowning? Surely not. The water was far too shallow, not to mention that he'd actually seen her 'pop' away.

She must have been Portkeyed again. But where?

_Was she safe?_

Lucius closed his eyes and chastised himself for his ridiculous behaviour. Of course she was safe. If this had been a part of Draco and Ginny's plan, they would not hurt her. Besides, she was probably already back in Britain while he was stuck here, foolishly wondering after her welfare.

He walked a few steps forwards. As soon as his feet touched the water, he found himself appearing back amidst the familiar surroundings of his home office.

Finally, he was home.

And Draco was due for a spanking.

In the following weeks after Hermione and Lucius' return from their five-day punishment, Draco and Ginny were rewarded by their efforts. Hermione and Lucius no longer fought like angry cats and dogs. As a matter of fact, both tried their hardest not to be in the company of the other. It was as though they were avoiding each other.

And they were.

Hermione was miffed and more than a little hurt by Lucius' unspoken rejection.

Lucius knew that she was, and feared she might question his reasons, which he was not ready to divulge.

But, on a late Thursday evening in July, Fate decided to be meddlesome.

* * *

_Thursday 22nd July, 2004 7:14pm_

Packing her bag and hoisting it over her shoulder, Hermione left her office, whispering the necessary charm to protect it from any unwanted invasion as she closed the door behind her. She was tired, and she couldn't wait to get home to take a soothing bath and then read a book before going to bed.

Out in the hallway, she made her way to the lifts and pushed the button to call it to her floor. At its ping, the door opened and revealed one other occupant: Lucius Malfoy.

She hesitated to enter, but then chided herself on how foolish not taking the lift and waiting for another would look. So she stepped inside.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy, heading home?" she inquired politely.

"Yes, I am. And you?" he returned, his tone equally civil.

"Yes, I am."

Silence.

The lift door eased shut and continued its slow descent for some time before slowly juddering to a stop. Expecting the ping that signified the arrival at their requested floor, Hermione waited and waited, eager to leave behind Lucius Malfoy and the oppressively awkward atmosphere that had developed since her entry.

But the ping did not sound. Neither did the door open.

Impatiently, she jabbed at the button that was used to open the door, but nothing happened. Finally, she produced her wand.

"Miss Granger, surely you are aware that these lifts are impervious to magic," Lucius spoke up.

"Oh, yes. Right," she nodded, remembering the little trivia that it had been the goblins who had constructed the lifts using their goblin magic centuries ago. "So, what are we to do, then?"

"We wait."

Fifteen minutes later.

"Nothing's happening! What's going on?" She pounded on the door. "Help! Can anyone hear us? We're stuck in here!"

"I highly doubt there is anyone in the vicinity to hear your pleas." And the casualness of his tone had her rounding on him.

"Would you please stop being so negative? At least trying is better than not, isn't it?"

His gaze was cool as it met hers. "I've no intentions of being negative. Merely factual."

Her brow knitted in suspicion. "How are you so sure? Did you do this?"

"Miss Granger, why would I suffer myself to be trapped here with you when we've not too long returned from a similar situation?"

"After some time, you didn't seem to mind," she replied cattishly, then she looked away and began unbuttoning her robes.

When that was complete, she took it off, folded it in half and spread it onto the floor of the lift. She sat on it, tucking her legs demurely to the side because she wore a short skirt. Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she stared angrily at the lift's door, doing her level best not to turn and watch Lucius as he did the same with his robes.

This was clearly Ginny and Draco's handiwork; there was no question of that. Who else would engineer such a meeting resulting in them being stuck in the lift? Hermione didn't pause to consider the glaring fact that neither Draco nor Ginny had knowledge of her schedule, and thus, would not know she would be staying late at her office. She just wanted someone to blame, and they were the most likely suspects.

She wanted to be anywhere but there. Being in Lucius' presence made her body mutinous. From the neck down it screamed: you want him! From the chin up it reminded: he doesn't want you! And it was hard listening to two conflicting messages, especially when she agreed with the former and was unsure on the latter.

She was fed up with asking herself 'why'. It didn't make sense because she would never know the answer. She had to ask him, she knew it, but her pride was strong and wanted to prevent this. But 'pride comes before a fall' she'd read, and though this wasn't the true meaning of the proverb, maybe the fall she had to take was by asking him…

"Why?"

* * *

_7:17pm_

Lucius turned to look at her. "Pardon?"

"Why…don't you…" she stuttered, swallowed. Her signature blush colouring her cheeks in the way that he always liked. She wasn't looking at him, her head was bent as she fiddled nervously with a button on her shirt. Then, her voice small and laced with hurt, "Why don't you want me?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leant his head back against the siding of the lift, wondering if he should answer her. Finally, he did.

"When have I said that I didn't?"

She lifted her head to glare at him, accusation high in her tone, "You don't need to! Your actions on the island spoke for themselves."

"Do we share the same memory or am I the only one that vividly remembers my fingers—"

"Even so," she interrupted hotly, face flaming, "after that, when I tried to carry things further you prevented me!"

"You seemed tired…" he replied lamely.

"Oh, _please_ ," she said. Then, after a few deep breaths, she spoke in calmer tones, "I'm not going to beg for your attentions, Lucius. Never. And I know I shouldn't let this bother me, but I just need to know the truth."

Silence returned, long and tense.

Lucius was never the 'sharing feelings' type of man, and he wasn't going to start being one anytime soon. However, he supposed he owed the truth to Hermione. He wondered if it would make him appear vulnerable, and knew that it would. Yes, he wanted her, but not her body only. And that idea scared him, because, as much as he'd been denying it, he wanted more than sex. But what if she didn't?

Quietly, he asked: "What do you want from me?"

* * *

"That's fairly obvious," she replied.

"Say it."

"I'm not begging."

"You aren't. I need to hear you say it."

Unable to look at him. "I want you to make love to me."

"Is that all you want from me?"

She couldn't answer right away. Just couldn't. Of course she wanted more than sex. After harbouring a crush for him for close to two years, sex alone wouldn't cut it. But she was apprehensive revealing that to him…

"Is that all you want from me?" he repeated.

"No."

Silence.

"Come here."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher his thoughts but his face was poker straight. So she scooted over to sit next to him. He surprised her by reaching his hand across to pull her face close to his in a kiss. Immediately willing, she kissed him back with equal fervor as the kiss deepened and became more passionate.

When he began pushing her body to the floor, she went without protest, kissing him and sifting her fingers through his hair as his hands smoothed up and down her waist and hip. Leaning away from her, he began to unbutton the row of buttons that marched down her shirt front, and when that was finished, he caressed her breasts through the cups of her revealed bra.

Thanking Merlin she'd worn a bra that unsnapped at the front, she breathed a pleasant sigh at the feel of his hands on her bare breasts. Kissing his way down her neck and over her chest, his mouth soon found her breasts, sucking them, scraping his teeth against her flesh, and flicking his tongue in maddening circles around her nipples with an ardour that had Hermione's hand clenching in his hair.

When he was finished attending to her breasts, he continued kissing a path down her exposed stomach until he came upon the waistband of her skirt. Grabbing the hem, he forced her skirt upwards to bunch at her waist, revealing a pair of pink see-through lacy knickers.

He looked up at her, she smirked down at him.

Returning to the task at hand, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and yanked down. She lifted her hips and raised her knees to aid in her knickers' removal. He flung the flimsy piece of material off to the side to be forgotten.

Parting her legs, he began kissing along the inside of her thighs until he met her center. He pressed an insistent kiss against her before sliding his tongue slowly up between her nether lips. Moaning, she spread her legs wider, raising her hips as he licked along the insides of her labia, then inserted his tongue into her.

Digging her fingers into his hair, Hermione cried his name as he moved his mouth upwards. With two of his fingers inserted into her, rubbing along her upper walls, he began to lick her clitoris in slow, demanding strokes with the flat of his tongue.

 _Yes. Oh, yes_. Her back arced involuntarily, sensations like tiny electrical zaps springing every which way from where his mouth made contact with her flesh. She tossed her head from side to side, whimpering unintelligibly as he circled, sucked, licked, and diddled her sensitive flesh with his tongue. Pumping his fingers in and out of her, she finally came, crying out her release, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his moving digits.

He raised himself up, unzipped his trousers and pulled himself free. Aligning himself between her legs, he entered her in one hard thrust that had Hermione crying out from the sweetness of being filled entirely. He was so thick, stretching her to a pleasant degree and ruining her for any other man that might come along.

He moved in an unhurried pace, rocking his hips leisurely against her own. The teasing slip and slide of him drove her insane, and she rotated her hips in frustration to carry her message across.

"Patience."

"Faster. Harder."

He complied. Accelerating, pulling himself all the way out then slamming into her so hard, her body jerked slightly upwards with each thrust.

She wrapped her hands around his neck, and her legs around his hips, she brought him down into a frenzied kiss, positioning her body to accept more and more of him, harder and faster as she could take.

"Oh, god…I'm going to…I'm going to…"

He lifted himself up onto his elbows, pounding into her mercilessly, and the exquisite sensations he was invoking in her body began to bloom brighter and hotter and sweeter deep in the pit of her belly. Her body straining beyond its limit, her insides afire with each of his powerful thrusts, Hermione climaxed a second time, a guttural, animalistic sound wrenched from her throat as her inner walls squeezed him tight.

And even as the tidal wave of her orgasm swept her away, he kept rocking into her, lengthening her pleasure even as his drew near. Then, unable to hold out any longer, he closed his eyes, his mouth opened in a half-gasp half groan as he came inside of her, each spurt of his semen sending intense, delicious frissons through his cock.

He slumped against her, both of them trying to catch their breath and steady their racing heartbeats.

Hermione sighed. "That was amaz—"

_Ping!_

The lift began to move.

* * *

After hastily covering themselves with their robes, Lucius quickly performed a Side-Along Apparition with Hermione to his manor. There, they bathed before having dinner and some wine on his master bedroom terrace. Later, they made love once more, and when sated and reveling in the afterglow, Hermione pressed herself against him and whispered against his lips:

"Did you know that I've fancied you for two years?"

And Lucius smiled, smoothing his hands along her naked waist and hips, mapping her body, marveling quietly that this woman liked him. He who had hated her, insulted her, tortured her. This beautiful and good woman desired _him_.

So soft, it was almost inaudible, he said: "I don't deserve you."

Hermione shook her head and smiled.

"You ninny. Of course you do."

* * *

**x.x end**


End file.
